Free A Murder in Christmas Village (Christmas Village Mysteries Book 0) by Alex Colwell Page A

You’ve got to come down here.”
    “As much as I enjoy the good sheriff, I’m not certain that road goes both ways. Not much profit in me trekking all the way out to St. Nicholas Circle just to –“
    “There’s a locked room.”
    Maribel’s ears were practically walking off her head. “What was that?”
    “The body, it was found in a locked room. No weapon anywhere near. And from there it only gets stranger.”
    “Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt for me to drop in for a minute or two. In my capacity as a Village Elder, of course.”
    “I thought that might get your attention.”
    “Let’s not be morbid, Angie. A man’s dead and someone must answer for that. But I confess I do enjoy a good puzzle.”
    “Awesome. Is Uncle there to bring you?”
    “No, he’s down at the shop. But I believe I can muster a ride if you’ll be so kind as to let me off this thing.”
    “Okay, but be sure to bring that thing with you. You might need it. See you soon.”
    Maribel hung up and ran to her front door, swinging it open. “Oh, Mr. Carmody! If you’ve got room in your car and the time to give a lady a ride, I’ve got a piece of peach pie with your name on it.”
     
    Maribel stepped from the lamplighter’s bucket of bolts and onto the cobbles in front of the Crestview Theater. Its front banners proudly proclaimed the final night of ‘Wild Willy’s Western World’.
    “Enjoy your pie, good sir, and thank you for the lift.” Maribel set the tin foil wrapped plate of pie on the seat she’d just vacated.
    “Anytime, Maribel. And the pie will be our little secret,” said Carmody with a wink. “I’ll sit here until I see you’re safely inside.”
    Maribel appreciated the chivalrous gesture but knew it was an unnecessary precaution. The entire Christmas Village police force – all four souls – were mere yards ahead, just behind the theater’s dark mahogany doors. Yet murder has a way of leaving its mark on a place. She had attended dozens, possibly hundreds, of performances at this theater; had even performed on its stage in her youth. However, tonight the shadows seemed longer, closer, the light just a step out of reach. She was grateful for Mr. Carmody’s presence.
    At three stories high, the Crestview was one of Christmas Village’s tallest edifices, and at only 109 years of age, one of its newest. It was still referred to by locals as the ‘new’ theater in contrast to its 200 year-old competitor across town.
    Maribel didn’t bother to knock.
    Doc Wilcox was standing just left of the doors talking with Carlton Moore, the general manager of the theater, who looked as though he couldn’t decide whether to hyperventilate or skip straight to the fainting. Maribel thought it fortuitous that he standing with the doctor.
    She spotted Angela behind the east wing ropes, deep in conversation with Deputy Bentley. Maribel noted (with no small measure of pride) that Angela was furiously writing in her note pad. 
    “Maribel? Is that you?” asked Doc Wilcox. He was notoriously near-sighted so Maribel assumed the question was not rhetorical.
    “Yes, Doc. It’s me.” Maribel wanted to go to Angela but knew she’d want to speak with the resident medico sooner or later.
    The elderly doctor shuffled her way. “May I have a word, Maribel?”
    Sooner it would be then.
    “I certainly didn’t expect to see you here this evening,” said the doctor as he accepted Maribel’s hand and held it briefly to his lips, as was his old fashioned way.
    “My niece called and told me what has happened. Such a shame. I thought if there was any way I could help –“
    “Your niece? Little Angela? How’s she mixed up in this mess?”
    “She’s 26 now, Doc, and she’s standing right over there, talking with the nice, young deputy. She got a job working for Mr. Fogg down at the Gazette and was here to review the wild west show. But I suppose she’ll be writing an altogether different story now.”
    “Well, I’ll be.